


a little better than a man deserves

by Jade_exe



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Lee Hoseok, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mentioned Lee Jooheon, Model Chae Hyungwon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 18:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16203065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_exe/pseuds/Jade_exe
Summary: "And he looked at me, like there was something in me worth looking at"





	a little better than a man deserves

**Author's Note:**

> I must have gone crazy, two stories in two days, like what the fuck is going on author go get a life

A golden spark catches Hoseok’s eye, as the sound of the small bell above the main door tingles his ear.

Hoseok is about to deliver the usual default greeting, but when he turns around he freezes, it feels like time stops.

The precious glow accompanying the new customer reveals to be an outstanding clutch shaped as three letters: “YSL”. An elegant Yves Saint Laurent bag, lazily carried by a sloppy wrist, which happens to belong to a man so beautiful he must come from a whole different universe.  
He’s tall and skinny; under his grey long coat he’s wearing simple tight black jeans and a loose forest green sweater. Screened by silver strands of hair, his hollow dark eyes scan the place with disregard, probably troubled by the many noisy people filling the café.

Hoseok stands speechless behind the counter, lips slightly parted, and almost dropping the cup he was wiping a while before.

He has this attitude, this aura… of a man who immediately makes you think of runways and flashing cameras, shiny olives and maraschino cherries sunken on the bottom of Martini glasses, fake smiles in fancy clubs, dimmed lights and unreachable perfection. He looks like the kind of person who was specifically created to be admired and idolized, impossible to reach and forbidden to be touched.

He stops on the doorframe and his hesitation looks everything but unsure. It’s classy, almost dramatic, resembling a prewritten hiatus in the script he appears to be acting.  
He approaches the counter and reluctantly sits on a stool. When he speaks, his voice is airy and velvety, sweet like a nightingale’s song.

“A tall iced Americano, please” he commands, not asks, even though outside it is winter and the temperature is barely above zero.

Now is Hoseok the one unsure what to do. The man’s sharp gaze almost makes Hoseok feel guilty for not having spread a red carpet before his feet when he got in.  
Up close it’s even more clear that the runway is the place he truly belongs to, that whole different universe Hoseok contemplated before.

The barista is only capable of nodding in response and silently complying. While Hoseok’s hands are busy with ice and espresso shots, his mind is still stuck on the man lazily scrolling through his obviously expensive phone. He is a walking juxtaposition of superficial beauty, big empty eyes and merciless glances; the result being a man who appears as he could summon hell to this world with a simple snap of his fingers. A supreme being, staring at others from the height of his throne made out of broken hearts; someone paradoxically unable to be affected by abstract things such as feelings and morality, but worn out by worldly possessions and ruined by falseness.

As he places the humble plastic cup in front of the customer, Hoseok can only just try and imagine all the time he spends neglecting hunger and the bleeding blisters hidden inside way too hard and uncomfortable shoes.

“Here’s your iced Americano, sir” Hoseok mutters, speaking as formally as he’s able to.

“Thanks” the ethereal man lifts his gaze from his phone screen and actually looks at Hoseok for the first time since he came in. His stare maybe lingers a second too long on Hoseok’s face, who is now feeling his cheeks burning.

This is, perhaps, the first time Hoseok regrets not having anything to do at work. He is forced to just stand there and look like an idiot. He would also grab a dirty old rag and go clean the empty tables, but unfortunately Jooheon is already doing that himself, since he knows that’s the task Hoseok hates the most and, therefore, never does. Hoseok starts involuntarily fidgeting with his right foot and he nervously bites his bottom lip as his eyes wander around the place until they inevitably land on the Iced-Americano-guy who, surprisingly, was already staring back at Hoseok.

“Is there something wrong?” the beautiful young man asks with uninterested eyes and curious tone; Hoseok takes a while to understand he’s speaking to him.

“Uh… no, sir, don’t worry about me” the barista replies, stuttering a little and already knowing he’ll forever regret being so shy.

“Stop calling me that. I’m probably younger than you” he sighs, almost sounding offended by Hoseok’s judgement of his age.

“My apologies” Hoseok bows down, almost 90 degrees, unable to drop his formal lexis.

The other doesn’t respond, but Hoseok is quick enough to catch the hint of a small smirk on the young man’s plump, juicy lips holding the black straw of the almost finished drink.

He notices that, by now, only watered down coffee is left on the bottom of the cheap plastic cup. He also peeks at the beautiful customer carefully analyzing the drinks menu hanging above Hoseok’s head, cutely leaning forward to try and see better. Hoseok gets to the cash register and does his receipt just before a group of three cheerful guys with colorful hairstyles enters the shop and immediately walks directly to the counter, continuing their talk about how you’re not a real man if you don’t get your drink at least in grande size.  
He believes he can hear the probable model at his left snorting, annoyed.

As he is taking the guys’ orders, Hoseok side-eyes the pretty boy and vaguely observes him fumbling in his bag with something he can’t discern, then he turns around and starts preparing the drinks the guys have just ordered; every one of them rigorously grande or venti.

When he gets back to the counter with the three huge cups on the fence on a tray, he disappointedly notices that the pretty boy is gone.  
But he left a piece of paper on the counter. The receipt Hoseok handed him a while before. It’s upside down and there’s something scribbled in red ink on the white back. Numbers.

 _“U r cute. Text me._  
_-Hyungwon”_

Hoseok almost chokes on his own spit and lifts his eyes from the piece of paper in total disbelief. He stares right in front of him, planning to stand still and simply contemplate void space until his brain can process what’s just happened, so for at least twenty minutes.  
Instead, he is greeted by the sight of the author of the note walking in front of the shop window, Yves Saint Laurent bag lazily dangling from his fingers, long stride and elastic movements.

The beautiful creature, _Hyungwon_ , is looking inside the shop, focusing directly on Hoseok with a confident smirk on his lips and an intriguing glow in his eyes, which now are sparkling so bright that they finally outshine his bag’s golden clutch.

**Author's Note:**

> I've probably felt the need to write this because I was feeling guilty for the trauma I probably caused to my readers with my last story lol
> 
> This is another entry for the #MWweeklytheme on monbebe amino btw!


End file.
